


Zero Dark Flirty

by crimsonwinter



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Boyfriends, Dating, Fucking, John Watson - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, JohnxSherlock, Kink, Kinky, Lemon, M/M, Military Kink, NSFW, Public Sex, Romance, Sex, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Smut, Top!lock, anal fucking, bottom!John, explicit - Freeform, john and sherlock are actually boyfriends, johnlock fucking, nsfw johnlock, s, sherlock's kink, top!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 12:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1226434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonwinter/pseuds/crimsonwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John takes Sherlock on a date, which includes the exploration of Sherlock's military kink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zero Dark Flirty

**Author's Note:**

> I've never actually seen this movie, but I did research to make sure it did actually have military life in it. The cinema they go to is actually the ABC Cinema in London. John and Sherlock go from flirty and goopy lovebirds to extreme horndogs in two seconds (it's how I like it!)
> 
> also - LOOK AT THAT PUNNY TITLE

John emerged from the bathroom grinning. He patted his cheeks with the remaining aftershave on his hands and fluffed his hair with his fingers after drying them on his pants.

"Ready?" He asked, picking his phone up from the table beside his chair.

Sherlock was sitting adjacent, his legs crossed and his palms pressed together under his chin.

"You're smiling."

"'Course I am. I'm excited." John stopped his jittery hands by slipping them into his back pockets.

"And you expect me to be, as well."

"Yeah, I would hope my boyfriend would be happy to go on a date with me."

Sherlock cringed at the word but John's hurt eyes helped him to deduce that John wanted a reason to call him that, and his grimace turned up into a grin.

"So what movie is it?" He stood up and straightened his suit jacket. John was now completely allowed to stare at his unique beauty, so he did so, and as such, he noticed a slight blush arise in Sherlock's cheekbones, which caused his groin to tighten.

"Pfft, it's a surprise!" He turned on his heel to go, knowing Sherlock would follow.

"John Watson, you will be the death of me," Sherlock took his trademark coat off the hanger and hurried to catch up as John galloped down the stairs. At the door to the outside world and London's city streets, Sherlock took John's hand and intertwined his fingers with his. John gave him a smile and opened the door with his free hand.

Sherlock and John hailed a cab. Sherlock darted his wise eyes around for anyone's gaze; he was still nervous about being seen in public with John. He'd never been in a relationship as committed as this one, and to publicly show affection was not on his radar, however complicated that radar may be. Luckily, however, he and John were seen as a couple long before they made the quick jump from friendly hangouts to dates with kissing.

The cab pulled up, its sleek body reflecting John and Sherlock standing on the sidewalk, side by side, holding hands. They pressed their bodies together so their hands were hidden beneath Sherlock's dark coat folds, but they looked like a couple nonetheless.

The men clambered into the cab, John first.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked stereotypically as Sherlock shut the door after his long legs settled into the space behind the driver's seat.

"Cinema on Marylebone Road, please," John said.

Sherlock's face tightened into a smile, proud at the sight of John giving directions. Something so simple, that he normally did, was now John's to do - they shared it.

Sherlock's fingers, still in John's, tightened as he pressed his thigh into John's. He leaned to give him a peck on the cheek, the cabbie's wandering eyes sparkling as he inched the car forward.

"So you boys finally came around, eh?"

"Just drive, Frederick." John sounded short with the man, but he was smiling. Sherlock rested his head on his strong shoulder for the rest of the ride, the angst filled out-of-place boyband music the only noise in the cab.

When the men arrived at the cinema, Sherlock climbed out first, which in turn received him a poke in the rear from John.

They linked arms and hurried into the movie theatre. A few women noticed John and Sherlock with wide eyes, and John greeted them with a flirty smile. Sherlock rolled his eyes and bumped his hip into John's as they walked.

"Sherlock, here's your ticket. Pre-ordered. Don't look at the name."

"Don't tell me what to d-"

"Surprise, remember?"

"John - "

"Can you get me a drink? I have to go to the bathroom." John gave his ticket to the woman with too much blush on and hurried off to the bathroom and Sherlock was left to himself.

"Theatre 3," she grinned widely. Sherlock grunted in disapproval.

He pushed his way through and followed John's form with his eyes into the bathroom. John stopped at the doorway and turned around, his eyes pleading.

Sherlock couldn't resist that face. He sighed in defeat and hustled along to the counter. A handsome black haired, blue eyed man greeted him.

"Hello! What can I get you for?" He had the same cheery tone in his voice as their usual cabbie did, and Sherlock loathed it. He didn't have anything to be happy about, he was a lazy college student who had lived with his mother until she kicked him out, and he's had to eat three minute ramen every night for the last two weeks. His cheery eyes were lying.

Sherlock read his name plate and tucked his now lonely hands into his pockets. "Well, _Darren_ , I'd like a medium lemonade."

The man's eyes lingered on Sherlock's for far too long, and he had to furrow his brows in order to get him to stop.

He fetched the drink and set it on the counter as Sherlock fumbled for the due cash. When the flirtatious, overly excited man gave him his change and handed him the drink, his fingers purposely brushed Sherlock's.

"Good luck with the exam," he said as he walked away, ignoring Darren's shocked expression.

He deduced everyone in the theatre as he waited for John, his black coat no longer swishing across the blue carpet. He settled outside of the bathroom and smirked knowingly when John's matching cerulean eyes met his. They changed colors, as his own did, but now they were bright and excited, a hint of seduction in them.

"You didn't peek, did you?"

"No, but that boy at the counter was coming onto me."

John grunted.

"Don't be jealous, John, you know what it does to me."

"Exactly."

The shorter, smugger man walked Sherlock into Theatre 3. Sherlock quickly deduced which seat would be most beneficial to sit in, and with a shake of his head, John switched roles and followed Sherlock to the middle of one of the farther rows. Sherlock took off his trademark coat and set it on his chosen chair, his sexy purple shirt now exposing his forearms and neck, thin fabric doing little to hide his chiseled chest.

They settled into their seats and filled the empty air before the previews started with deductions, meaningless words, and casual kisses. John sipped his lemonade lightly, the icy zing awakening his tongue. By default, it awakened Sherlock's as well, even though Sherlock didn't drink any.

The people passing by noted the couple but continued on their way, not giving the two men any trouble.

Sherlock was worried, but John squeezed his hand and told him to calm down by deducing them.

"Well, the woman in the red shirt is cheating on the man in green."

"Tell me how." It'd come to the point where there was no astonishment in the limits of Sherlock's deductions. John calmly asked for more detail, rather than extreme bewilderment. Nothing Sherlock did was unbelievable to John, save for actually reciprocating his intense feelings.

"She protectively hovers her hands over her phone when it buzzes, if it were her sister, she'd ignore it, if it were a friend, she'd wait a few moments before responding. The fact that she covers the already indiscreet noise with her hand says its someone she doesn't want her boyfriend to see. Ridiculous that she's texting him now, of all times. Green shirt is right there. Oblivious, of course, he's too involved with his upcoming bills to care much."

"I love it when you do that," John said sappily. He was reduced to a puddle of compliments and long gazes and sighs when he was with Sherlock, and although he'd find it disgusting in other couples, as well as never acting as such with past girlfriends, he indulged in it with Sherlock, who, although mostly impassive, seemed to enjoy it.

"Good, I do it a lot." Sherlock's face was illuminated in the dark by the starting previews.

"You'd never be like that woman, right? You'd never cheat on me?" John asked with trust in his voice, even though his possessive undertones said otherwise.

"John Watson," Sherlock used his full name when he was being serious, "even if I wasn't solely attracted to you, I'd never be unfaithful."

John pressed his lips to Sherlock's, the plump warmth comforting, the jolt of electricity he always felt warming him up. He settled into Sherlock's form as he turned his body inward and tucked his hand between Sherlock's knees. "Strange thought, though."

"John, we solve crimes. Nothing should be strange anymore." Sherlock hoped his words stayed cold beneath the sounds of the advertisements, but the presence of John's hand had caused him to heat.

"You'll always be a little strange to me."

Sherlock scoffed, "You're just being sappy now. You try one. You do that one," he nodded towards the teenaged boy sitting alone on the left side of the theatre.

"I can't do them as good as you," John admitted. Sherlock's lips convinced him. He tried, "Well… He's here alone, and he doesn't look pleased about that. So he's either waiting for someone or just having a bad day."

"Wrong."

"Okay, you go."

"His mother is with him, I saw her when you were desperately trying to seduce me with your confession of love. Oh, don't look at me like that, you know I love you, too. They'd been bickering about the content of the movie before she got up and waddled to the bathroom. He's grumpy about that. Before they argued, he was quite happy. Seemed his day was fine. Although, he is going to movie with his overprotective mother, so you might've not been far off."

"Prick."

"You told me to go," Sherlock wished he could stay stone cold and reliably nonchalant when talking to his boyfriend, but he couldn't. He became sassy and eager and full of brimming emotion. He found himself kissing the tip of John's nose before he could protest, and he found himself tucking his own hand into the crevice between John's arm and his side, nipping at his ear. He never thought that he'd feel for anyone the way he felt about John. John irritated him and bugged him constantly. John Watson made him feel worthy of trust and friendship, and he was most intelligent and helpful during cases. He also reduced Sherlock into an affectionate, protective puppy, and as the flashes of color from the screen went on, Sherlock's fear of public affection melted away and he ended up kissing every spot on John's face before the movie started.

John, in turn, was extremely satisfied with his life. He had a handsome man on his arm, not only that, but the most intelligent man in the world, save for Mycroft. Sherlock was stubborn and rational and hypothesizing at all times, but with John, he was pressing his nose into his temple and whispering sweet nothings. John had had plenty of girlfriends to do that to, but now he was the receiver, and it was quite refreshing to hear something as meaningless as "You look great in that dress" turned into something personal based off his relationship with Sherlock. The thought that he was the only person Sherlock had ever been attracted to and in love with was extremely flattering as well. Many college girls hearts are probably still broken, John thought.

When the screen went black and the producing company's logo flashed, John finally untangled himself from Sherlock and told him to watch.

With a scoff, Sherlock sat, feeling empty without a hand to hold or a leg to touch. Luckily, said leg found his hand once again, and Sherlock was able to focus on the upcoming title.

"Zero Dark Thirty?"

"Mmm." John said, which meant, "Give it a chance."

"Is this American?" Sherlock asked as the movie progressed.

"Just watch, I picked it especially for you."

"Hm."

The men continued to watch as the plot and opening went on, the dramatic theme of 9/11 rolling in.

Sherlock furrowed his brows throughout the movie constantly, turning to John and whispering questions and facts.

About a third of the way through, Sherlock finally asked, "Why did you pick this?"

"It's an experiment." John was excited about something.

"How so?" Sherlock felt jealous of himself. He was the butt of an experiment, one of John's, nonetheless.

"Here," John turned towards Sherlock again, the mood of the movie completely juxtaposing the mood John hoped to set as he slipped his hand between Sherlock's knees again. This time, he slid it upwards until it came in contact with Sherlock's crotch.

"John, not h-" Sherlock was more confused than aroused, but the breath and swollen lips that came in contact with his neck began to work their magic, teeth nipping at the collar of Sherlock's purple shirt.

"I heard you had a kink," the lips mumbled into Sherlock's neck. Sherlock heated at those words. All the times they'd been together sexually before had most definitely been more than enough to stimulate Sherlock. Although wary at first, John had showed him how to relax, how to bottom, how to top, and how to do everything else. Now that they found their groove of healthy sex, this added a new fire.

"Wh-what?" John felt Sherlock's crotch swell and he increased pressure.

"Military? Well I brought you to see this movie in hopes of stimulating that… What would you say the results are?" Sherlock nearly moaned at the sound of John's scientific language, and he drifted his eyes back to the screen, where a group of military men were going about with their green speckled uniform and heavy padding, holding guns and rolling around in the dirt.

"Captain Watson deduces that you seem to like it better when it's him." John cut himself off by planting a wet kiss on Sherlock's neck and gently sucking on it. When he released, the skin reddened. He pulled back and stuck a hand down the front of his shirt. "I even brought props, see?" He pulled out his dog tags. Sherlock couldn't hide his groan. Luckily the firing shots of the movie hid his audible arousal.

John untangled himself from Sherlock and let him squirm by himself. His face was reddening and he was biting his lip. He was caught between the men in the movie and John's twirling dog tag, swiveling between his fingers.

Finally, he snapped and jumped up.

"Come."

He rushed out of the dark theatre and heatedly led John to the men's bathroom.

He checked that it was empty and pushed himself into the biggest stall. Luckily, the cinema was relatively clean and the bathroom was acceptable.

Sherlock felt himself strain against his pants and he waited painfully for John to appear in the bathroom.

"Here," he squeaked from the stall.

John opened the door and was immediately pulled into the handicap stall. He was pushed against the wall and Sherlock smothered him with kisses, mostly on or in his mouth, occasionally pressing his tongue to John's neck or jaw as punishment for earlier.

Captain John Watson groaned and spread his legs, allowing Sherlock's long, lean limb to make its way between them. He pressed in, up, and forward, his own erection touching John's hip.

Sherlock forgot that he left his precious coat behind, but he ignored it, the matter in front of him arising; and quickly. He pulled at the collar of John's coat, and John shed it happily.

Now faced with a light blue, plaid button up, Sherlock began to unbutton furiously, extremely eager to see the dog tags bounce against John's naked chest.

When that shirt was ripped off, it fell softly on top of the jacket. John was exposed and heated now, exploring Sherlock's back, hips, rear, and sides with his hands. The shape of everything was glorious and he squeezed at the round, firm rear and the sturdy, slender hips.

"Say it," Sherlock pleaded huskily against John's shoulder.

"Captain Watson reporting for duty, sir. You have permission to explore further."

Sherlock dove his hand into John's pants at those words of consent, fumbling with the belt and buckle. When finally undone, John sprang out excitedly, his erection throbbing and thick, the silky skin begging to be touched.

Sherlock obliged happily with one hand, the other quickly undoing his own trousers. He leapt forwards as well, and he immediately collided himself with John. They both hissed at the contact, familiar but sexy as ever. Sherlock ground himself into John and pulled at the chain of the dog tag with his teeth, his breath fogging up the metal.

He pushed John's pants down and they fell to the floor. John had to lift his hips to keep his bum from touching the cold wall of the bathroom stall. However, his bare back was already pressed against it, and he told himself that a war doctor wouldn't shy away from a cold bum.

John pressed it back and hissed with the chill. Sherlock deduced this and instantly put his warm hands on John's hips and cheeks to warm said rear.

"Captain, requesting permission to enter." Sherlock groaned, nearly unable to get the words out between gasps and groans.

"Request granted, Corporal," John said.

Sherlock then pushed John harder against the wall and used his huge hands to cup John's bottom and lift him up. He stepped over John's pants and cast them aside. They slid across the bathroom floor and landed innocently next to the rest of John's clothes.

Sherlock shifted their position until John was able to wrap his legs around Sherlock and his arms around his neck, completely supported.

Sherlock looked deep and heated into John's eyes, his stomach tightening with the intensity. He pressed his mouth once more to John's, trailing his tongue along John's swollen lip. John opened his mouth and received Sherlock's sloppy, eager kiss. They played and explored each other's mouths as they continued to rock their erections together.

Sherlock removed one hand from John's bum and lifted it up to John's mouth. John sucked on Sherlock's finger eagerly and happily, wetting it completely. Sherlock added his own spit to his fingers and lowered his hand to John's opening.

He spread the lubrication around his arsehole and slipped one finger in, never relinquishing eye contact with John as he did so.

The world and setting melted away when John's face contorted into an 'O' like that, and Sherlock felt completely smitten, eager to please and ravenously devour the man whose prostate he was now stimulating.

Sherlock added a second finger and reduced John to a puddle. "Do you want more, Captain?" Sherlock played with the idea of dirty talk, since usually their sex was silent, slow, and passionate. Now it was horny, dirty, and rough in a public bathroom.

"Yes please," John begged.

"Yes please what?" Sherlock couldn't stand the horrible talk pornstars made (John and he watched it when they were working out the basics, even though John kept telling Sherlock that certain things didn't actually happen that way. He said there was much more laughter if you did it right and much more awkward tension if you did it wrong. So far, there'd been no tension, everyone was consenting and aware and happy in their relationship. Sherlock was over the moon knowing that John would forever be his first, and his forever, if he were lucky enough) and now he could barely control himself at the sounds John and himself made.

"Yes please, Corporal. I want more, Corporal."

With that, Sherlock replaced his fingers with his cock and slowly but steadily began pumping. He sucked the remaining moisture off his own fingers before returning his hand to John's firm rear, using both hands to spread his cheeks. They kept in steady rhythm for some time, steadily increasing pleasure. Sherlock kissed every bit of John's exposed skin while John ran his fingers through Sherlock's dark hair. When Sherlock felt his stomach coil and snap, a new breach in his indulgence. 

He looked down, the sight of John's cock bouncing with the force of his own undeniably beautiful. His paleness disappeared inside John and came out glistening. John's strong legs tightened around Sherlock's hips and back and he leaned his head back against the stall wall, his mouth hanging open in ecstasy. His chest was damp now, his ab muscles contracting tightly and prominently beneath Sherlock's own. His eyes traveled up John's form and settled on the swaying dog tags, even up further, John's neck tendons and clavicles sharp and prominent with his fit body. His lips were damp and parted wide, and Sherlock bit the lower one playfully, pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it as he tried desperately to control himself.

"Oh, Captain," he muttered against John's lips.

"You please your commanding officer so," John was naughty with those words, and Sherlock pounded harder. By the tightening of John's legs and the strangled sound catching in his throat, Sherlock knew that he hit the spot just right, and he remembered what John had told him. When your partner is close, keep the same rhythm exactly the same to prolong their orgasm.

So as difficult as it was to not completely melt from the pleasure he was feeling himself, he kept steady. His stomach fluttered when John was unable to moan anymore, the silence of pleasure overwhelming him, and Sherlock stared in wonder as his flushed, damp face contorted with a gaping mouth and furrowed brows.

John came in steady streams all over himself and Sherlock, and even after he stopped, Sherlock kept going, completely at his limit. He saw stars and was inundated with the smell and feel of sex, and he rode out his own waves, coming inside John to the point where some of his semen dripped out of John and onto the bathroom floor.

The men rode their orgasms until the pounding ceased to a steady rocking, then a slow sway, finally a stop.

Sherlock pressed John against the wall with all his weight and sighed heavily, satisfied with himself and John.

"Good performance, Captain," Sherlock huskily breathed.

"And to y-you, Corporal," John returned the saying.

After a few minutes, Sherlock was able to slide out of John an carefully lower him to his feet, which were trembling along with tremulous legs.

John rested back on the wall as he caught his breath, and Sherlock buttoned his pants before picking up John's clothes and helping him get dressed. He wiped John's semen from his abs with some toilet paper and began to dress him. He slipped the button up over John's muscular arms and helped to button him up, concealing the dog tags beneath the light blue innocent shirt.

He wiped his own purple shirt, but he knew it'd be easier just to let it be and cover it with his coat, which was still back in his seat inside the theatre, left there maybe for the twenty minutes they were away.

John shimmied into his pants and buckled them, wiping off his sweat and blushed face with a shaky hand.

"Wow," he said.

"I know." Sherlock replied, "Come on, let's see if our lemonade is still cold."

Sherlock took John's hand and kissed him on the forehead as he lead him out of the men's restroom, catching their heated skin and faces in the bathroom's mirror as they left.

They sneaked from the room and back through the theatre, wary of the wandering eyes of children and mothers.

Once back in the theatre, they found Sherlock's coat and John's lemonade, which was slightly melted, droplets formed on the cup.

They settled back into their spots and immediately began to cuddle, despite the sticky spot on Sherlock's shirt and the cold seat of John's pants, where the bathroom floor's icy touch had creeped into it.

The men kissed lightly and smiled into each other's mouths, the cheating woman and lonely teenage boy who they'd deduced earlier completely oblivious to their escapade in the bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> How was that? It's 5:28 in the morning, and this was a request.
> 
> Snuggles and nose kisses are my weakness, I'm sorry.


End file.
